Wild Rose
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Old enemies of Ziva from her Mossad days, unbeknownst to her, are alive- and out for revenge. They track her down and begin targeting those closest to her.
1. Chapter 1

He looked over the pile of dossiers. His cohort had done excellent work on assembling these, but, of course, he'd expected nothing less. There were six: four men and two women. But one of them he didn't even need to see. He knew all he needed to know about that wretched subject.

He opened the first dossier:

**Name: Dr. Donald Mallard (known to his friends as "Ducky")**

**Occupation: NCIS Medical Examiner**

**Date of Birth: September 19****th****, 1936**

**Place of Birth: Glasgow, Scotland**

**Education: Edinburgh Medical School **

**Father: Andrew Mallard (1910-1980) **

**Mother: Victoria Mallard (1912-2010)**

**Siblings: None **

**Marriage(s): None**

**Children: None**

"Ducky," he repeated with a grin. The picture was that of a kindly older gentleman who had a grandfatherly look about him. An older man living alone. What could be simpler?

The next one had a picture of a dark-haired woman wearing black make-up and dark clothing. Her bright smile and almost girlish pigtails contradicted her gothic fashion choices, he noted with amusement. And she was another one without special agent training. Another easy one.

**Name: Abigail Scuito **

**Occupation: NCIS Forensics and Ballistics **

**Date of Birth: March 27****th**** 1975 **

**Place of Birth: Metairie, Louisiana**

**Education: Louisiana State University **

** B.S. Sociology, Criminology, and Psychology**

**Georgia State University **

** M.S. Forensic Science and Criminology**

**Father: William Scuito (1952-)**

**Mother: Rebecca Scuito (1953-)**

**Siblings: Grace Scuito (1974-); **

**Bobby Scuito (1980-)**

**Marriage(s): None**

**Children: None**

He flipped to the next file. This time the picture showed a slim, baby-faced man with wide green eyes. He didn't look old enough to have worked at NCIS for six years. He looked soft, easily breakable. He looked like the kind of man he'd be able to have some fun with.

**Name: Timothy McGee**

**Occupation: NCIS Special Agent**

**Date of Birth: November 15****th****, 1977**

**Place of Birth: Bethesda, Maryland**

**Education: Massachusetts Institute of Technology **

** B.S. Computer Science**

** M.S. Computer Forensics**

**Johns Hopkins University **

** B.S. Biomedical Engineering**

**Father: Richard McGee (1953-)**

**Mother: Josephine McGee (1955-)**

**Siblings: Sarah McGee (1985-)**

**Marriage(s): None**

**Children: None**

The next picture in the pile was that of a good-looking man with chiseled features. He wore a cocky grin on his face which, coupled with the glint in his eyes, gave him an air of being very certain and sure of himself. No doubt he would be the kind to play tough when faced with danger, hiding his fear with sarcasm and jokes.

**Name: Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.**

**Occupation: NCIS Special Agent**

**Date of Birth: July 8****th****, 1971**

**Place of Birth: Long Island, New York**

**Education: Ohio State University **

** B.A. Physical Education**

**Father: Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. (1950-)**

**Mother: Julianne DiNozzo (1954-1979)**

**Siblings: None**

**Marriage(s): None**

**Children: None**

He smirked. Families were not conducive to this line of work. He knew that better than anyone else. When you risked your life every day while working, thoughts of a spouse and children only got in the way...especially when your spouse was involved in the same line of work. He wasn't surprised that so far none of the subjects had any semblance of their own family, except with each other.

The next picture depicted an older man with silver hair and steel-blue eyes that seemed to look directly through you. His mouth was formed into a small frown and, based on the small wrinkles that had begun to form, it looked as though that was his typical expression of choice.

**Name: Leroy Jethro Gibbs **

**Occupation: NCIS Special Agent**

**Date of Birth: September 2****nd****, 1955**

**Father: Jackson Gibbs (1936)**

**Mother: Margaret Gibbs (1937-1975)**

**Siblings: None**

**Marriage(s): Shannon Fielding (1962-1991) **

**(1980-1992, her death)**

**Christine Jensen (1959-)**

**(1994-1996, divorce)**

**Diane Cornwall (1962-)**

**(1999-2000, divorce)**

**Stephanie Flynn (1965-)**

**(2001-2003, divorce)**

**Children: Kelly Gibbs (1983-1991)**

Included in this file was a detailed account of how Shannon and Kelly Gibbs had been killed when a Mexican drug lord (against whom Shannon had testified) shot the NCIS agent assigned to protect them. Further proof that one could not maintain a good family life when doing this kind of work. Of course _his_ work and _their_ work were not quite the same. In fact, one might say they were the antithesis of each other. But in many ways they were alike. He'd killed many men and he'd no doubt that they (at least the ones who were special agents) had killed many people. That much they shared in common.

He put aside those dossiers and turned his attention to the last one. He need only open it and see the picture to feel the rage bubbling up inside of him. Ziva David. For him that name brought only memories of anger and hatred. He would gladly see her dead and would more gladly be the one to do the deed, to watch her very life drain from her right before his eyes.

But he needed to wait. It was not good enough to simply kill her; that would be letting her off too easily. First, he had to make her know pain, make her understand what true emotional and mental anguish and grief meant.

He placed his hand atop the pile of dossiers. They would do very nicely. By the end, perhaps she would be begging him to kill her and release her from the overwhelming guilt.

Ziva David would suffer just as he had, he would make sure of that.

* * *

**AN: **This story was written for the NFA Community White Elephant Fic Exchange and was inspired by a prompt given to me by EleventhHour.


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva shot up breathlessly and found herself in the warm comfort of her own bed. The nightmare that had shaken awake so abruptly retreated into the back of her mind and suddenly she couldn't even remember what it had been. All she could remember was that it had frightened her to her very core.

Her body trembled and she realized she was sweating profusely. She slid from her bed, noting the clock on her nightstand which told her it was 3:20am. She would have awoken in an hour or so to go for her morning jog before getting ready for work. Now, though, she wasn't sure she wanted to go anywhere. In fact, the idea of crawling back into bed and wrapping the blankets around herself like armor seemed like a wonderful idea. She had only ever done that two times in her life, both when she was a child and her mother was still living.

She'd been told to outgrow that habit when her father reminded her that, in order to be a good Mossad agent, one must squelch their emotions and focus on the task at hand. "One cannot hide from her problems, Ziva," Eli David had said firmly to her. "If you choose to hide away in your bed rather than face the day, no matter the reason, you have become weak and have failed yourself and your work."

And so she'd become more a robot than a human being, always waking up when her alarm went off, never dawdling or trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep, and never _ever_ calling in sick to work. Even when Tali had been killed, she took no time off to mourn; she drove ahead in her work, using her pain and anger to spurn her on further.

This was a habit which had followed her to America and to NCIS. When she'd come down with a nasty flu Ducky had ordered her home to bed, going so far as to drive her there himself and take her keys to ensure she didn't try to sneak away. She'd never admitted to anyone how wonderful it'd been to rest just for one day.

Ziva flipped on the light of her bathroom and examined herself in the mirror. She was wearing the long T-shirt and sweatpants she usually wore to bed when she was sleeping alone. Her hair was frizzing around her face and she looked sallow and pale. A quick splash of water from the faucet did little to change her drab appearance. It certainly didn't stop her sweating.

Her mother had always told her that dreams were merely our subconscious trying to warn us about something coming. Her father, of course, had dismissed that as bunk, but her mother had insisted. "Be very careful to remember your dreams, my darling," she would say as she tucked Ziva in each night. "They can tell you very important things."

She wished she could remember the dream that had jolted her awake in that way.

"Coffee," she murmured as she shuffled into her kitchen. The pot wasn't set to start brewing for a while, so she started it manually and grabbed a protein bar. This was the point in her morning when she would usually start getting dressed and stretch for her morning run, but she hadn't the strength to do anything other than fall into a chair and wait for the coffee to brew.

"When did I become so weak?" she asked herself as she poured a cup for herself. Even the caffeinated aroma couldn't give her energy. She had an overwhelming urge to…

"No," she said as firmly as she could. "No, I will not crawl back into bed and waste away a perfectly good day by just lying there and doing nothing. That is not the woman I was raised to be."

But that was her father talking, not her. How could she continue living by the rules and beliefs of a man who had left her to die in that hellhole and who had cut her off from his life when she returned to NCIS? What had he ever done to earn that reverence from her? She was no longer his robot, his unfeeling killing machine. She had feelings and opinions and wants and needs, and right now her body and mind were telling her they needed her to crawl into bed and stay there until they were ready for her to leave.

With her steaming mug of coffee in hand, she slipped back into her bed and pulled the covers over her body. She left the warm mug on the nightstand and closed her eyes, feeling the sweet release of sleep blanket around her.

* * *

He was standing outside of the lavish home, waiting for his first mark. The grounds were massive enough that he could easily conceal himself among the leaves of an oak tree directly across from the front door. Tall fences and hedges made it impossible for the neighbors to see anything. His contacts had informed him that the house was to be sold very soon, so he knew he had to act quickly on this one. He'd take his shot and then slip out of there before anyone even noticed.

He hadn't initially known the order in which he would take them out. The only important thing was saving Ziva for last. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that, should he be taken out before completing his mission, he wanted to kill as many of them as he could. Therefore, he decided to start with the one who had the least amount of defense training and work up to the one with the most training.

"Dr. Mallard," he said, waiting patiently for his target, "you have the unfortunate luck of being first on my list. Unlike some of your co-workers, I suppose you can at least say you've lived a long and eventful life."

Dogs yapped nearby and then the door opened. He smiled as Ducky stepped out, but frowned when he saw the quartet of corgi's running about around his feet. They ran out to sniff the grass and relieve themselves. He hadn't accounted for any pesky dogs, but so far they didn't seem to notice him.

* * *

"Countessa," Ducky called out, beckoning her to return to him. "You must come back into the house." But the dog paid him no heed and soon the others began wandering away as well. Ducky sighed and dropped his things to the ground. The corgis had become so restless since his mother's death. Every morning they would run out excitedly, expecting her to arrive for her weekly visit as she had during her stay in the retirement home. It was so difficult to round them up again, but he knew he couldn't leave them outside while he went to work. It would be a hazard to their safety as well as the safety of his neighbors.

"Soon," he muttered to himself, "soon they'll be gone and with someone who can give them the attention they need."

Tyson had run to the edge of the porch and was beginning to nibble on some petunias that hadn't been watered in months. Ducky left his things in front of the door and retrieved the canine, pushing him toward the front door. "You can't eat the plants," he admonished as though the dog could understand him. He placed the dog down and stood back up, prepared to round up the others. "The last time you ate from mother's garden you came down with the most terrible case of diarr-"

His words were cut off by something hitting him in the chest. He let out a strangled cry of pain and fear as he stumbled backward and fell into the open doorway. He could already feel the blood seeping out and staining his shirt and hands.

"Ducky?" a voice asked from the stairs. Tony appeared at the top of the stairs and began sprinting down at a quickened pace. He halted when he saw Ducky lying in the doorway with a deep burgundy spot on his chest. Worse yet, the spot seemed to be growing.

Without another thought, Tony grabbed Ducky and pulled his body into the house, slamming the door behind him. He then fell to his knees, instinctively pulling off his jacket and pressing it to the wound. With his free hand he pulled out his cell phone and called for an ambulance. Then he hit Gibbs' speed dial "Hang in there, Ducky," he said as the phone rang.

What had just happened? Who would have gone after Ducky? It didn't make sense, but Tony knew he'd have to tell Gibbs something when he answered. He stood and carefully looked out the window. But he saw no one.

* * *

He cursed to himself as he ran to his car three blocks away. He knew he hadn't killed the man instantly as he'd hoped. That wouldn't have been all that bad if someone else hadn't been there. He hadn't noticed until he was already out of the tree and a few feet away. That's when he'd caught sight of one of his other marks running down the stairs. It was a stupid mistake on his part; he should have accounted for that possibility, but he'd assumed that an unmarried man of that age wasn't likely to have any overnight visitors, specifically visitors from NCIS.

He knew an ambulance would be on the way by now, along with the NCIS team to investigate. He could only hope they wouldn't make it in time. If they did…well, he would just have to return to this Dr. Mallard at another time.

At least he'd remembered to leave a little gift for Ziva.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony sat on the bottom step with his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair. In his mind he replayed everything. How he'd been in the bathroom brushing his teeth. How he'd just rinsed out his mouth when he heard a loud blast. How he'd sprinted out of the bathroom. How he had seen Ducky lying there like that. No matter how many times he replayed it, it still didn't make sense. Why would someone have gone after Ducky?

"Did you see anyone?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, McGee, I saw the guy running away from the house and did nothing to stop him," he snapped irritably. A quick smack to the head did away with that.

"Answer the question, DiNozzo," Gibbs said in a steady tone.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said as he rubbed his eyes, "I'm sorry, McGee, I'm just…" He shook his head and looked at the spot where Ducky's body had been. "I should have done more."

"Tony, you did everything you could."

"So why is Ducky on his way to the hospital?"

Tim couldn't help but feel sympathetic. When dealing with situations such as this, one can't help but blame himself, even if he wasn't actually at fault. When your job calls for you to save lives, you take it that much harder when you feel you've failed. "He's still alive because of you. His closest neighbor is a half-deaf elderly woman who lives alone. No one else heard the shots, so if you hadn't been here he probably would have bled out before anyone noticed he wasn't at work. If anything, he was lucky to have you here."

Tony's apartment had lost electricity the previous day and because he wasn't interested in sleeping without AC on a blistering hot night, he had taken Ducky up on his offer to stay at his home for the night. Very fortuitous, Tony now thought.

"Have you searched the grounds yet?" he asked.

Gibbs shook his head. "Haven't had a chance. Ziva called in sick today so we're down one."

"Ziva?" he asked incredulously. "I don't think I've ever heard her even mutter the word 'sick.'"

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything," Tim mused. "Everyone gets sick now and then. Oh, well, except for you, of course, boss."

"We have your gear in the truck if you're up to lending a hand," Gibbs continued.

He nodded. "Yeah, let me just get my stuff." He wasn't going to sit around and let the bastard who had done this get away with it. Besides, the more he sat there thinking, the more he would just find new ways to blame himself.

"McGee, comb the area and see if you can find out where our shooter was. DiNozzo, go get your things and then help McGee."

They both muttered their agreements and went about to complete their given tasks, leaving Gibbs in the foyer of his friend's home. The dogs had been locked in one of the rooms and they were barking up a storm, but there was still a sort of quiet and stillness. The floor where Ducky had fallen was stained with a tell-tale spot of crimson. Gibbs hated to look at it.

Gibbs could understand someone taking a shot at him. Tony and Ziva, sure, he could see that. Not so much with Tim, but maybe there might be someone out there holding a grudge. But Ducky? Other than that crazy mortician family and the woman who thought he had killed her brother, Ducky really didn't have an enemy in the world. No one could have any reason to shoot him.

And yet someone had.

* * *

Tim walked down the porch steps. He hadn't gotten a good look at Ducky before the ambulance took him away, but as far as he could tell the shooter had been in an area parallel to the front door. That's where Ducky had been when the bullet hit, after all. So he started from there and walked out carefully as he scanned the grounds.

It was all so surreal. Ducky wasn't supposed to get hurt like this.

"Anything?"

He jumped at Tony's voice but soon composed himself. "Not yet. Do you want to go that way? I'll go this way and we can meet in the middle.

Tony mutely nodded as he walk off to the right. It was unusual for him to be so quiet. By now Tim had expected him to break out his list of movie quotes and references and start making jokes to lighten the mood. That was what he normally did. But then, it was different when you not only knew the victim but felt you had somehow let him down.

Tim couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but then he hadn't surveyed the land around Ducky's home very often. There were a lot of flowers, though he had no idea what any of them were. The grass was neatly kept and there were no tacky lawn ornaments (which Tim's parents had a taste for). He shuffled along, camera in hand and eyes peeled for anything unusual.

"So Ziva called in sick, huh?" he heard DiNozzo shout across the way. "She say what was ailing her?"

"Don't know," Tim replied. "I didn't talk to her."

"Well, I guess even ninja assassins get sick now and then. Have you guys talked to Abby?"

Tim winced. He'd been unlucky enough to be in Abby's lab when the call had come in. She had, of course, insisted that he tell her what Gibbs has said on the phone that had caused him to go completely pale and he'd relented. It had taken a lot of doing to convince her that it wasn't a good idea for her to come along to Ducky's house and that she was needed back at the lab to help with the case, but ultimately she had conceded, though not after making him promise to give her an update every hour and call the hospital every hour to check on Ducky's status.

"She knows," he said.

"I'm guessing she didn't take the news well."

"Well, this _is_ Abby we're talking about. She's emotional, but she's a professional." He stepped over an anthill that had sprung up near a bunch of daffodils. "So any idea who might want to…" He stopped himself before saying "kill." Ducky wasn't dead yet and he was going to be optimistic. "…who might want to hurt Ducky?" he finished.

"If I did don't you think I would have told Gibbs, McGeek?"

"Yeah," Tim said with a sigh, "I just…I mean, it doesn't make sense."

"Random shooting?" Tony suggested.

"Maybe. But it doesn't seem random."

Tony had to agree.

He tried not to think about seeing Ducky like that as he walked along the grounds, but it wasn't something a person could just forget. He wondered if anyone had told Ziva yet. Knowing Abby, she had probably called every employee of NCIS—past and present—to let them know what had happened, so he couldn't imagine that Ziva hadn't heard, no matter how sick she might be.

"Tony!" he heard Tim call. "I think I found something! Over here!"

Tim was standing a few yards away from he was near a tree that was almost directly across from the door. "What do you have? Shoe print? Brass?"

But all Tim pointed to was a large crimson-colored flower. One might say it was the very color of blood. It was sitting on the ground at the base of the tree. "I think it's a rose."

"A rose." Tony repeated. "You called me over because you saw a rose. I think you're taking this metrosexual thing a bit too far, Probie."

"Tony, this is the only place around Ducky's house where there's a flower like this."

"Yeah, so? It could have been blown over here from a neighboring home."

"It would have to be one hell of a wind to pick it up and carry it this far. This tree is the perfect spot to take a shot at someone."

"And what? You think our killer just accidentally left this here? He just had it in his pocket and it fell out?"

"I think it's more likely that he left it here on purpose, like a calling card." Tim pulled out a bag and carefully slipped the flower in. "I think we've found where our shooter was."

Tony couldn't exactly agree that the flower carried any actual meaning, but this did seem like the ideal spot for a shooter. Easy to blend in, great vantage point. "I'll let Gibbs know what we've found," he said before trotting off.

* * *

Though her phone continued to ring, Ziva didn't bother to answer it, especially since it was Abby who, she figured, was only calling to check up on her. Today was her sick day and she was going to do it the right way.

So far she'd finished the book she'd been working on these past few months. She hardly ever had time to read, but today she had all the time in the world. She had also treated herself to a nice bubble bath with scented candles and now she was watching some terrible Lifetime movie while eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's that she had hidden away in the back of her freezer.

"Tony was right," she muttered, "these films are awful." She hadn't caught the title of the one she was watching, but it involved a waitress with psychic powers who teamed with a police detective to solve murders. She could not imagine why women would waste their time watching this, and yet she didn't want to change the channel.

Her phone rang again. She plucked it up and looked at the screen. Abby again. Ziva placed it down and returned to her carton of ice cream.

Though she had surrendered to her the wishes of her id and taken a day off, it wasn't helping to shake that overwhelming feeling that something was wrong. It wasn't odd for her to have such a feeling—her time spent in Mossad had heightened her intuition, sometimes making her a bit paranoid—but it was odd for her to feel it this strongly.

She decided to ignore it. She placed her now empty ice cream carton on the nightstand and pulled the covers up to her chin. The Lifetime movie was ending and she was already flipping through the guide to see what else was on. Nothing, save for a number of soap operas (such an odd term considering the shows contained neither soap nor singing). In light of that, she popped in a DVD (_Singin' in the Rain_, one of her all time favorites, as odd as it may seem) and continued with her vegging session.

It was amazing how something could feel so disgusting and so satisfying at the same time. She was building up calories while lying in bed, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

The phone buzzed and she groaned. She turned it off, dropped it into the drawer of her nightstand, and slammed the drawer shut.

No work today. No phone calls, no visits, nothing. Most importantly, no worries today.

And yet there were nagging worries in the back of her mind.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ziva's not answering her phone!" Abby exclaimed when Tony and Tim delivered the evidence to her lab. They could tell that she had been crying from the twin streaks of black mascara which ran down her cheeks. Her playful pigtails were missing as her black hair hung limply around her shoulders.

"Abbs, what happened to your pigtails?" Tim asked.

He was rewarded with a light slap to the shoulder. "McGee! Ducky's on his deathbed while Ziva's MIA and all you can do is ask me about my pigtails? Are my pigtails more important than their lives or something? Are my pigtails going to save Ducky?"

Tony stepped in, grabbing the hysterical Goth gently by the shoulders and maneuvering her toward the evidence table. "Abby, Ducky is not on his deathbed so far as we know and Ziva's not MIA; she called in sick."

"So why isn't she answering her phone? She doesn't even know what's happened!"

"Maybe she took medicine and it conked her out," he suggested.

"Or maybe whoever tried to kill Ducky as already killed her too! Maybe it's a conspiracy against the team! What if one of you is next? Or Gibbs? Or me!" Tears were beginning to well up once more in her eyes as she babbled.

Tim reached out and pulled her into a hug. Abby reciprocated at full force, burying her face into his shirt. "Abby, don't create new worries for yourself. Ducky isn't dead yet and I'm sure he's got plenty of life in him to come out of this. Ziva's sick, but she's not dead. And who on earth would be trying to take out our team?"

"Who on earth would try to kill Ducky?" she muffled into his shirt. The mixture of her tears with the black make-up was beginning to stain it.

He sighed and gently rubbed her back. "Well, if someone is trying to kill us, we'll handle that part. We need you to focus on the evidence. _Ducky_ needs you to focus on the evidence. Okay?"

She ran the heel of her hand beneath her eyes, but nodded. "Okay…for Ducky. But as soon as I'm done processing all of this, I get to go back to worrying," she added forcefully.

With a soft sniffle, she pulled on a pair of latex gloves and began opening the bags. "So what've we got?"

"Our shooter policed his brass," Tony said. "But we did manage to get a shoe print."

"Also this," Tim said, plucking the bag holding the rose out of the bin.

"A rose?"

"It was the only flower of its kind at the crime scene. Might be nothing, but I figured it couldn't hurt to test it."

Abby was dubious, but she didn't argue it. Stranger things had happened. "Anything else."

"Not much, unfortunately," Tony said with a groan. "The scene was pretty clean. Might be dealing with a professional." At that comment, Abby's eyes widened and she looked fearful once again. Tony quickly added, "Not that him being a professional really means anything. Hell, we don't know that he's a professional anything!"

She held up a hand to stop him. "It's fine, Tony. Now get out and let me concentrate on this."

Abby began spreading the items out on the table. A lot of it was stray leaves or flowers. Gibbs had probably ordered them to collect everything within a one hundred foot radius of the position the shooter had been in when he's shot Ducky.

She grimaced; don't think about it, just focus on your work as though Ducky has nothing to do with it.

After she'd slipped a couple of things into Major Mass Spec, she turned and caught sight of her phone. Her stomach churned as she thought about Ziva, blissfully unaware of what was going on. She'd called at least ten times since getting the news hours earlier, but Ziva hadn't returned a single one. It wasn't like her to not return calls and Abby couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Well, more than one something was wrong.

She snatched up the phone and dialed Ziva's number again. It rang…rang again…and again…and again. Finally her voicemail answered:

"_This is Ziva. Please leave a message and I will return your call at my earliest convenience."_

"Um, hey, Ziva," Abby stammered. "I know this is, like, my fifth message, but I'm really starting to get worried. Ducky's in the hospital and might die—but I'm thinking positive thoughts!—and you're not answering your phone! Please just give me a call when you get this, no matter how late it is, and let me know that you're okay. I'll call you back when I know more about Ducky. Just please call. Um…bye."

* * *

Upstairs, the team was feeling similarly uneasy. "None of the neighbors heard a gun shot," Tony announced, "though a woman a couple of blocks down did see a man running by around the time Ducky was shot. She should be in soon to get Abby to make a sketch, but she warned me that she didn't see much of his face."

"Our shooter probably parked a little ways away to avoid being seen," Tim theorized. He slid behind his desk and began typing rapidly across the keyboard. "I'll see if there are any security cameras nearby. Maybe we'll find a video shot of this guy." It was unlikely, though, that his idea would pan out. It was a residential area and most of them preferred alarm systems to security cameras.

"Whoever this guy was, he knew what he was doing." Despite having just assured Abby that being a professional didn't mean anything, they all knew a professional could be dangerous. It meant that it wasn't some random killing; whoever had done it wanted to send a message. But to whom? "He barely left a trace."

"Even the best killers screw up, DiNozzo."

"I know boss." Tony slumped back against his desk and frowned. "If only we could talk to Ducky. Maybe he knows something about it."

Tim grimaced. "Yeah, well, we don't know when we'll have a chance to talk to him…if at all."

"Your luck is changing so far."

They all turned and saw Vance standing at the middle platform of the stairs. He was leaning against the railing with a toothpick rolling about between his lips. "The hospital just called. The surgery was a success, though Dr. Mallard is still not awake."

"So he's going to be okay?" Tim asked hopefully.

"Too early to tell, but he's not dead yet." Vance descended the remaining stairs and walked to Ziva's desk. "What have you got so far?"

"Very little," Tony mumbled. "Someone may have gotten a look at our shooter and McGeek is hoping to access a security camera, but other than that we don't have much."

"You need something, Leon?" Gibbs asked irritably. He wasn't angry at Vance though; he was just angry about the entire situation.

"I noticed that with David out sick you're shorthanded and thought I might be able to lend a hand."

"As DiNozzo has so eloquently put, we have very little that needs doing at the moment. Unless you can find something in Ducky's past that would warrant someone taking potshots at him."

Vance gave a small grin. "I _am_ the director of a federal agency, Gibbs. You think I can't get dirt on people?"

"You think Ducky has a skeleton in his closet?" Tony asked.

"I think he may have omitted a few things from his past, the way many people do."

"Ducky?" he asked incredulously. "The man who relates every case and every body to a story from his past? The man is pretty much an open book."

"Yes, well, even books have subtexts that you have to look for, DiNozzo. I'll see what I can find," Vance said before leaving.

"McGee!" Gibbs barked. "You got anything yet?"

Tim leaned back with a sigh and shook his head. "There are no security cameras in the surrounding areas unless they're privately owned by one of his neighbors."

"Well, go check it out."

He raised his eyebrows but didn't argue as he gathered up his things.

"Go with him, Tony. Check the streets and see if you can figure out where his car was parked."

"Yeah," Tony muttered, "I'll mark that task between 'fat chance' and 'impossible.'"

"What was that?" Gibbs snapped angrily.

"Nothing, boss." He shut up, grabbing his things as he ran behind Tim toward the elevator.

"You think this was some random killing?" Tim asked. "Maybe some psycho is targeting older people who live alone?"

"Do you think that's what this is?" Tony asked as he jabbed the down button.

Tim was quiet for a moment. Then he answered. "No."


	5. Chapter 5

"Gibbs!"

He looked up from the screen and saw Abby hurrying toward him in a very excited manner. "Got something?"

"I think McGee was right about that rose being deliberately left behind."

"What? You got prints off of it?"

She frowned. "Well, no, but I did find something. I was testing other things first, so I didn't notice it right away, but when I looked in the center of the rose, I found this." She produced a test tube, inside of which was a tiny, but sharp, object.

"A thorn?"

"Guess again, Gibbs! It's a stinger."

"Stinger?" he asked as he examined it. "You mean from a bug."

"From a wasp to be exact. When I tested it, I found it coated with the same venom that wasps use when stinging other animals."

"Well, Abbs, that doesn't really mean much. The stinger could have just fallen out."

"Possible, but not probable. The rose's center was tightly enclosed, meaning it would have been difficult for a wasp or anything to get in there. I think someone put it in there for a reason."

"And what reason would that be?"

Abby frowned once again. She hadn't a clue how to answer that. "Maybe sending some kind of message. Like the rose is beautiful, but it can sting you, too?" she theorized.

Gibbs pursed his lips, obviously not too impressed by what she'd shown him. "Have you got anything else?"

"I checked the shoe print and managed to narrow it down to popular brand of work boots. It's kind of a dead end."

"That's it?"

She nodded awkwardly. "That's it, Gibbs. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me, Abby."

"But I should be better than this, Gibbs! I should have a slew of evidence by now!"

"You only have so much to work with," he reminded her. "You're good, Abbs, but you're not a miracle worker. Stop beating yourself up over this." He paused and examined her. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked tired. The sky was growing dim; where had the time gone?

"Go home," he said.

"Gibbs! No! I can't go home! It's too early and there's so much work to do!"

"You said yourself that there was nothing more you could do, didn't you?"

"…well, yes, but—"

"No buts," he interrupted. "I am ordering you to go home now."

Abby knew better than to argue. Besides, she couldn't deny that she felt about ready to drop at any moment. "Can I at least go down to my lab and shut off my babies for the night?"

He leveled her with a stern look. "When I go down there in ten minutes, you'd better be gone."

* * *

It was later that evening when Ziva finally decided to turn her phone back on. It had been a blissfully relaxing day for her, but she had to listen to her messages sooner or later and this seemed as good a time as any. There were a twenty missed calls (mostly from Abby) and three messages (all from Abby). "What on earth could be so important?" she asked aloud as she entered the password for her voicemail.

The first message began and Ziva listened. And she grew worried. She listened to the next one and was even more concerned. Before the third message was even done she was dialing Abby's number.

* * *

"Agent Gibbs!" Vance was hastening down the stairs with a file in hand. "Got a moment?"

"If this is about Ducky, I've got as much time as you need. Find something in his past?" he asked, nodding to the file Vance had just plopped atop his desk.

"This isn't his." Vance flipped the file open and Gibbs saw the name at the top.

"Ziva's?"

"I decided to look through a few files, especially after Miss Scuito told me what she'd found. The M.O. sounded familiar to me."

"Not one that Ziva used," Gibbs asked cautiously.

Vance shook his head. "Not her, but an assassin that Mossad chased after for almost two years."

Gibbs took the file and read through it. "Nasreen Azizi?" he asked.

"A member of VEVAK. That is, until she went rogue."

"They didn't order these hits?"

"Not according to them. The agency said she was working on her own. Took out a few Mossad without their authorization."

"And Ziva took her out." It wasn't a question on Gibbs' part.

"The official record had it as unsolved, but almost everyone was certain David did her in."

"Well, that's fascinating, Leon, but what's that got to do with the guy who took a shot at Ducky?"

"Nasreen's calling card. When she killed someone, she liked to leave a rose at the crime scene. That's how she earned the nickname 'Wild Rose.'"

Gibbs looked up from the file. "She didn't happen to leave a wasp stinger at the center of the rose, did she?"

"She did."

He looked back down at the file and stared at the picture. "So how did a dead VEVAK agent manage to take a shot at Ducky this morning…unless…"

"Unless someone close to her is picking up where she left off," Vance said, completing Gibbs' thought.

"You think this guy is targeting the team as a means of getting revenge on Ziva?"

"The thought did cross my mind. Where is your team at the moment?"

"I sent Tony and McGee back out to talk with Ducky's neighbors."

"And Miss Scuito?"

Gibbs tensed up. "I sent her home."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Abby!" Ziva exclaimed with relief.

"Ziva? I've been calling you nonstop!"

"Yes, I know. I heard your messages and—"

"Isn't it just awful?" she interrupted. "I mean, who would want to shoot a sweet guy like Ducky?"

"Actually, I-"

"Tony and Gibbs I could see, maybe McGee depending on who he's helped put away, and I'm sure you've pissed off a few people in your life."

"Abby, in your last message-"

"But Ducky? He's never hurt a fly! He's so innocent! Why would someone shoot him?"

"Abby!" Ziva shouted with frustration. She understood how Abby got when she was scared, that a person had a better chance of breaking into the Pentagon than getting a word in, but there were too many questions that needed to be answered. "You said McGee found a rose at the crime scene."

"Oh, yeah! He said it looked odd, so he bagged it."

"Yes, well I was wondering if you had inspected the rose."

"Uh-huh," she said, "and good thing too. I think it may have been left there deliberately. I found a wasp stinger in the center and there's no way it could have just been there by accident."

Ziva felt her stomach sink as she clenched the phone in her hand. "Abby, where are you?"

"What?"

"Are you at NCIS right now?"

"No," Abby grumbled. "Gibbs made me go home. I'm on the road right now."

"And the others? Where is everyone else?"

"I think Gibbs sent them back out to Ducky's house. Why?"

Ziva cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began getting dressed. "Abby, I want you to listen to me very closely. You need to turn your car around and go back to NCIS. When you get there, do not step foot outside of the building until I get there. I'm on my way right now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just do what I tell you! I'll be there soon to explain."

"Ziva, you're making me nervous. What's going on?"

"I think I may know why Ducky was targeted."

On the other end, Ziva heard a loud crash followed by a scream from Abby. There was a squealing of tires, followed by another crash. Then all was quiet.

"Abby?" Ziva asked. Nothing. "Abby?" she repeated louder.

* * *

He grinned from where he lay on his stomach, rifle in hand. A hearse? These NCIS folks were strange ones, he'd give them that.

Of course targeting the lab geek while she in a moving vehicle was risky; the shot was a hard one to make and he didn't know where he'd hit her, but he knew that it would only be a matter of time before they figured out what was going on and became more cautious. Who knew if he'd have another shot at the scientist?

He'd taken the shot and watched as her car had careened off to the side, hitting another car in the process, before flipping over on the side of the road. So far no one had emerged from the wreck, though quite a few had stopped to investigate or call 911.

He stood and disassembled his weapon. Then he dropped a rose where he had lain.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Ziva arrived at NCIS the news of Abby's accident had spread throughout the agency along with the rumor that it had something to do with Ziva. She noticed the looks others gave her as she made her way up to the director's office. The rest of the team was already there.

"Miss David," Vance greeted, "please, have a seat."

"How is Abby?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"She's in the hospital, but she's expected to pull through. The bullet only grazed her. The accident did most of the damage. We've already sent an alternate team to the site of the crash."

"And Ducky?"

"Still in critical condition."

Ziva sat across from Gibbs. Tim and Tony were seated to her left and looked quite confused. Vance took a seat on her right. "I am sorry," she said. "And before I am told that I should never apologize, I think it is safe to say that in this case one can make an exception."

"You're aware, then, that these two murder attempts may be connected to you?"

"Yes, Director. Before I heard the gunshot, I had been speaking with Abby about the case. She told me about the rose McGee had found and about what she had discovered at the center of it. There was a rogue VEVAK agent who left the same token at every murder scene."

"Nasreen Azizi," Vance provided.

She nodded. "Yes. She took out a couple of powerful men in Israel along with some Mossad officers before she was killed. My father and our Prime Minister were to have a meeting and I was heading up the security team. The team each had a post and were required to call in every half hour. Every hour we would rotate counterclockwise; I wanted to be aware of every inch of the building."

It was two hours later when one of my team did not call in. I ran to the back of the building and saw the Mossad officer on the ground with a bullet in his head. I ran to him; she was behind me."

Ziva turned her head so that she was looking out the window. It was beginning to rain. "Our scuffle…we fought for what seemed like forever. Every time one of us thought she had the upper hand, the other overcame them and we would be back where we'd started."

"None of your team came to your aid?"

"No, I had ordered the others to remain at their posts no matter what. For all I knew she had others to help get past us. I wanted to take care of the situation myself."

"And you did, as I understand."

She nodded somberly. "I was growing tired. She was as well, but she was hiding it. Nasreen swung her leg around and knocked me off my feet. I hit the ground hard and was disoriented. She took that moment to take out her knife and knelt over me with it poised above her head. I know it was only a split second, but it seemed like forever."

"How did you escape?" Tim asked softly.

"Luck," she replied. "Not the way I would have preferred to survive, but it suited me well, so I can't complain." Her hand instinctively went up to the Star of David which hung around her neck, as though thanking God himself for her good fortune that night. "Just as Nasreen was about to plunge the knife into my chest, a bell sounded in the distance. To this day I do not know what bell it was or where it came from, but it grabbed her attention just for one moment, long enough for me to regain my composure. I struck her in the gut with my foot, knocking her off of me. Then…well, then I did exactly what I was trained to do. I grabbed my own knife and stabbed her."

Vance nodded silently and grabbed the file. "You were never formally accused of killing her."

"Mossad thought it best to rule the death unsolved. VEVAK was in no position to ask questions; she had, after all, been on an unsanctioned mission."

"Surely someone wasn't satisfied with that answer."

Ziva was silent, her eyes gazing on a fixed point on the table. "Her husband. Jalil."

"Husband?"

"Yes…when I killed her, Nasreen was four months pregnant."

"That information wasn't in the file."

"It would not have been, seeing as she was never given any true autopsy. Even I didn't know until he told me. It only enraged him further."

"You were protecting yourself, Ziva," Tony said. "She knew the dangers involved when she undertook the mission. You can't be blamed for it. Besides, even if you had known, would you have let her win just because she was pregnant?"

"No, but I may have made more attempt to restrain her rather than kill her." Even though she said the words, Ziva did not believe them. Nasreen would not have had such mercy if the situations were reversed; she had to be killed. There was no other option.

"Someone is reopening this case," Gibbs said. "You think it's the husband?"

"He swore vengeance against me." She let out a long breath she had been holding as leaned back in her chair. "And now it looks like he will get it."

* * *

"She is dead, Jalil?" his companion asked the moment he walked in.

"I do not know. I had to take the shot while she was driving." He sat down and dropped his bag on the floor beside his chair. "The car crashed. It is possible she is dead."

The other man frowned. "I do not like 'possible.' I want dead. The old man may also pull through, you said."

"Yes, perhaps," Jalil replied nonchalantly. He was not worried. "So we will kill him at another time."

"We do not have so much time. If she has not figured it out yet she soon will. Then they will all be under protection."

"You do not know these people," he replied. "They may put the old man and the lab woman under protection, but her fellow agents will be stubborn, especially this Gibbs man. They will not want protection; they will want to find us themselves."

"How can you be so certain?"

His mouth twitched upward into a wide, wolfish grin. "Because Ari spoke of them often."

"Rumor has it that the reports were wrong, that this Agent Gibbs didn't kill Ari."

"Is that so?"

His companion nodded. "They suspect that Ziva pulled the trigger herself."

"It would not be the first time a report was falsified to protect that Jewish whore."

"So who do we get next? The younger one?"

He was silent. On the table beside him were the pictures of their targets spread out before him. He had already drawn a large, red X over the faces of Ducky and Abby, though neither was quite dead yet. The other three would be more difficult. They had the training to defend themselves, to be aware of their surroundings.

"We save this Agent Gibbs for last."

"When will we kill the other two?"

"Not quickly. I'd like to play with at least one of them."

"Pulling out your old bag of interrogation techniques?"

"You could say that. But it won't be an interrogation; this will just be for fun."

* * *

It was immediately decided that an agent would be stationed outside of Ducky's and Abby's hospital rooms. The latter had come to for a moment, but had been given something to help her sleep for the night. She had suffered much bruising, a hard bump to the head, and a broken leg, but she would be okay.

"I also want each of you to be escorted by an agent when you leave the building," Vance added. As expected, that was met with protests from all of them.

"Director, with all due respect, we're agents. I mean, I understand having protection for Ducky and Abby, but we spend every day keeping ourselves alive," Tony said. Tim nodded behind him.

"I understand that, DiNozzo, but it's not every day that you have a professional killer tracking you and waiting for the perfect shot. We know this guy is out there; he may not be alone. I'm not going to risk your lives just because of your stubborn pride."

Gibbs stepped between them. "Leon, we still have an investigation to conduct and I don't want other agents holding us back. Now do you want us to catch this guy or do you want us to deal with baby-sitters?"

The two men stood there engaged in an intense staring match, each waiting for the other to blink.

"A compromise," Vance finally said. "You all must leave the building with at least one other agent. You may depend on each other for safety while you investigate, but not a one of you is allowed to leave this building alone. That includes you," he added with a stern look to Gibbs.

He didn't even try to argue. "Fair enough, Leon."

"So where do we start?" Tony asked.

"You three start by getting rest." His comment was met with disagreement, but he wasn't going to budge. "It's been a long day. Ducky and Abby are both being guarded and I doubt our killer would be so brazen as to try and get in here. Now I'm ordering you all to bunker down for the night. I'll wake you at 0600."

Tim and Tony frowned, but obeyed. They left in search of comfortable quarters for the next few hours. Ziva remained in her seat, motionless.

"That was an order for you too, Ziva."

"I am not tired, Gibbs."

"I don't care. Go lie down."

She stood without a word and walked out.

"You could stand to follow your own order," Vance said once Ziva was gone. "As you said, the team is protected at the moment. Nothing more for you to do. I'll handle things for now. Go grab some shut eye."

Gibbs knew Vance was right, loathe as he was to admit it. He could use some sleep. One couldn't very well take down international killers when sleep-deprived. "I'll be in MTAC," he mumbled. The seats were comfortable enough that he could rest while and still feel like he was trying to accomplish something..

"And I'll be right here," Vance responded as the door slowly fell closed behind Gibbs.


	7. Chapter 7

Ziva stared up at the ceiling. Her right arm was crooked beneath her head as a makeshift pillow and she had draped her coat over her body to serve as a blanket. The floor of the interrogation room was carpeted, but not soft. But for all of her attempts to get comfortable, it really didn't matter. She could have been lying in a five-star hotel bed and she still wouldn't have been able to get to sleep.

How could this have happened? Why was it happening? Of course, she knew why Jalil was targeting her, but why now, after all these years? Perhaps he had been planning? Waiting until he had something he could truly use to torture her?

That thought was unsettling.

She had never really met the man, aside from his rant of venomous threats following Nasreen's death, but Ziva had no doubt in her mind that he was good at what he did. Being someone in the same line of work made it even more difficult for her because she could imagine far more gruesome things than even her co-workers would dare think possible.

They would be lucky if he only ended their lives with a swift shot to the head.

She rolled over onto her side and brought her knees up to her chest. Would they forgive her, she wondered. If this did get her friends killed, would they resent her for it? Would their families resent her? Would the other NCIS employees?

"You will not think like this," she scolded herself. "No one has died." Yet. That word hung in the back of her mind like a stubborn water drop clinging to an icicle.

She looked at her watch. It was only a little past two in the morning. She could not endure another four hours of this tossing and turning. It was doing her no good. If anything, she was less rested than she had been before. Besides, it gave her too much time to think and in her current state of mind that wasn't a good thing.

Ziva sat up and tossed her coat to the side. When she stood, she found herself looking at her own reflection in the one-way mirror. She realized that she hadn't really looked at herself in the mirror since hearing that gunshot on the other end of her phone call with Abby. Her hair hung about her face in an unruly manner. Her eyes looked sunken in and were encased by dark circles. Her lips were chapped and dry. Furthermore, there was a sort of hollowness in her eyes that she didn't often see.

It was as though she was looking at a stranger.

She reached out a tentative hand toward the mirror and touched the reflection of her face. Her fingers gently ran along the image of her cheeks, down along her jaw line. There were only two times in her life that she could recall looking and feeling this way. One time was after her return from Somalia—or, as she referred to the ordeal, the inner most circle of hell; the second was after she had killed Ari. He had been everything Gibbs said he was, but he had still been her half-brother.

_You could kill yourself_.

Suddenly, she snapped her hand away from the mirror as though the surface had suddenly become electrified and shocked her. With her other hand she rubbed at her face, dragging her hand over her closed eyes, pretending like such an action could completely erase the image of her bedraggled self in the mirror, could erase the events of the past twenty-four hours, could make things how they had been before.

_If you killed yourself you will have beaten him at his own game. He can't torture a dead woman._

When she removed her hand and opened her eyes, though, things were exactly the same.

* * *

Gibbs managed a couple hours of sleep in MTAC, but his body wouldn't allow him any more. Actually, his body was more than willing to be overcome with sleep; it was his mind that urged him awake, reminding him that two of his people were lying in hospital beds and that there was work to be done.

But what could they do at the moment? Their only lead was Ziva's past and he had seen how she'd looked while standing in Vance's office. He wasn't going to question her in that state of mind, assuming she even had anything more to add.

The threat on the team would make investigating hard, but not impossible. They would have to be even more on guard than usual. If it were like it had been with Ari where they thought Gibbs was the only one at risk it would be easier for him, but when the lives of the others were at stake he knew he had to tread carefully.

He stood and stretched, groaning a bit as his bones cracked. His team still had three hours of sleep before they needed to be up. If nothing else, he could use that time to see what information he could find on Nasreen and Jalil Azizi. Vance, he knew, had ordered that their files be sent, but Gibbs wasn't sure where they were at the moment.

NCIS was quiet and still as he descended the stairs. It looked as though the cleaning crew had already come through.

"Ziva?" He saw her seated at her desk with a lamp on. She looked up when he spoke, obviously startled.

"Gibbs," she replied quietly.

"I told you to go lie down."

"I did. Now I am up."

"You're no good to me if you're not at your best."

"Gibbs, I will be at my best. I _am_ at my best. Trying to sleep only made things worse. I need to work, to keep my mind occupied."

He couldn't fault her there. "What are you working on?"

"I was trying to access the old Mossad files. When I left they cut me from the database, but I had McGee show me a few ways of getting around that."

"Find anything good?"

She sighed and sat back in her chair. "Not yet. My computer skills are not good enough for this. So I thought I would make notes of what I remembered."

He rounded her desk and stood beside her, reading over her shoulder. "These are all hits made by Azizi?"

"Yes. The ones I knew of, at least."

"And her husband? What was his profession?"

She was silent for a moment. "VEVAK is much like Mossad, Gibbs. Much of it is made up of family."

A trace of a smile ran across his face and he nodded. "If her entire family was involved then we may not just be looking for a disgruntled husband. We'll have to ask VEVAK if they know his whereabouts."

Ziva offered up a short, throaty laugh. "Do you honestly expect them to cooperate with you? If you so much as mention my name they will shut you down."

"Director Vance has pull. He knows how to get what we need." He took a seat behind his own desk. "You still have time to get some shut eye."

"It would do no good."

"Because your mind is keeping you awake?"

"Yes."

"Why's that?"

She turned her head sharply and looked at him incredulously. "I do not know, Gibbs. Perhaps it is the man who is killing off the team—my friends—to get revenge on me? Does that not strike you as the sort of thing that would keep one awake at night? Did you not lose sleep after…" She stopped herself short, uncertain if she should tread on such ground.

Gibbs knew what she had intended to say, though. "That was different, Ziva. He actually killed Kate; Ducky and Abby may be in the hospital, but so far they're both still alive."

"No thanks to me."

"Do you want my pity or something?"

"I want your understanding."

"Ok; I understand. It's a crappy situation and I don't envy you. But the moment you start playing the victim, you let them win."

"I am not the victim, merely the instigator."

"Yeah? You send a letter to this Jalil, reminding him of what you did to his wife? You tell him who is on the team, where they live, what cars they drive?"

"Of course not."

"Then stop feeling sorry for yourself. We have work to do."

"And what can we do, Gibbs? This man is a professional. By the time we know where he is, everyone will be dead." She paused and looked away, focusing her eyes on the computer screen. "No, there is nothing any of you can do to stop this. Only me."

He took note of the edge in her voice and knew what she was going to say before she said it. "Don't go down that road, Ziva. I've been down it myself. It does you no good."

"It will stop the murders. He will not kill any of you if it won't make me suffer."

"You don't know that."

"I know him, Gibbs. If I am dead these kills will be a waste of his energy. He will leave."

"Or it will only anger him more that he can't get his revenge and he'll kill us just to let off some steam. Now do not make me take your weapons away from you."

He waited for a response, but none came. When he turned to her he found her head on the desk, cradled in her arms. She was facing away from him, but he heard the rumbling snores the team had come to associate with her. He smiled fondly and draped her coat over her shoulders.

"Get some sleep," he whispered as he clicked off her desk light. "I have a feeling things are only going to get worse from here."


	8. Chapter 8

"Come on, McGee. Up."

Tim grumbled as a hand shook him. He managed to pry his eyes open and sit up, though not without a few groans of protest from both him and his body. The floor of Abby's lab wasn't all that comfortable, even with the comforter beneath him. His muscles were tight; he rolled his shoulders a bit and rocked his head back and forth to ease the pain in his neck.

"Better grab Bert, too. I'm sure Abby will want the companionship in the hospital."

"Right, boss," Tim said. He leaned down and retrieved the farting stuffed animal which he had used as a pillow. "Are we going to see her and Ducky today?"

"You and DiNozzo will. It will be one of your many tasks."

Gibbs walked out to the elevators, coffee in hand, with Tim in his wake. "How is Ziva?" Tim asked as they waited. He hadn't gotten a chance to speak with her the night before and she hadn't looked very good. Tim imagined he wouldn't look much better if he were in her shoes.

"She conked out around 0400. I'm going to give her a little more time to sleep." The elevator doors opened and the men stepped on.

"You think this whole thing is someone trying to get revenge?"

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. "The team that went to investigate Abby's crash found another rose right where they think the shooter was. It's too much to be a coincidence."

They exited into the squad room. Tony was at his desk trying to shave and Ziva was still dead to the world.

Tim grabbed a spare shirt from his desk as well as deodorant and a small toothbrush case from his bag. What he wouldn't give for a heaping cup of coffee right then.

"So what's the game plan, boss?" Tony asked as he pulled on a shirt over his undershirt.

"We'll split up. You and McGee go to the hospital and talk to Abby, and Ducky too, if he's up. See what they can tell you. Then I want you to check every hotel and motel in a fifty mile radius of NCIS and ask if they've seen Jalil. We should be getting a picture in soon; I'll have it forwarded to you."

"What about you and sleeping beauty there?" he asked with a nod in Ziva's direction.

"We need to see what we can get from VEVAK regarding the whereabouts of Jalil. They'll be none too pleased to see Ziva, but I'm sure we can make them cooperate with us. We also need to talk with Mossad."

Tim frowned and shot Ziva a sympathetic look, though she was not awake to see it. The relationship between her and her father had been strained since she'd opted to leave Mossad in favor of NCIS; from what he understood their relationship hadn't even been that good to begin with. She probably wasn't looking forward to such a discussion, assuming she even knew it was on the day's agenda.

"Come on, Probie," Tony said with a snap of his fingers. "You can pretty yourself in the car."

"Ha ha," Tim intoned, though he dutifully followed, his own bag slung over his back and Bert tucked safely beneath his arm. Only after they'd entered the elevator did Tony swap out his jovial demeanor in favor of a more somber one.

"Ziva didn't look good last night."

"Considering the circumstances I can't say I'm surprised."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, "it's rough."

"From what Gibbs told me it's going to get rougher."

"Well, their meeting with Mossad should be fun," he grumbled. "Talking with daddy is never easy after a big fight and Eli David isn't an easy man to begin with."

"It's strange to see her like this."

"Who? Ziva?"

Tim nodded. "I'm not used to seeing her this…I don't know…vulnerable. I mean, aside from Somalia—and who wouldn't look like crap after that—she's almost always got a tough front, you know?"

"Stoicism," Tony said. "She's definitely not the type to wear her heart on her sleeve."

"You think she'll be okay?"

Tony was tired of all this worrisome talk. He worked better when he acted like nothing was really wrong. A smile broke out across his serious face. "Of course she will, McGee. She's Ziva."

* * *

Ziva couldn't stop the nightmare. It had been the same one she'd had the night before, only this time it seemed all the more real. She shivered, though her body was soaked with perspiration.

A cup of steaming hot tea was placed beside of on the desk and she jumped.

"Bad dream?" Gibbs asked.

"Terrible dream," she replied shakily. She took the cup gratefully and sipped at it, letting it warm her. "What time is it?"

"Almost 0830."

Her head snapped up. "What? I thought you were going to wake us all at 0600."

"I woke Tony and McGee and sent them out."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"You needed the sleep."

"What I need is to find this man before he hurts anyone else. Now what can I do to help?"

"You can start by drinking your tea and not getting ahead of yourself. You're not superhuman, Ziva; you need rest and nutrition just like anyone else."

"Where did you send Tony and McGee?"

"Hospital first. Then they'll see if they can find where this bastard is staying."

"And me?"

"You'll stay here."

She balked. "Gibbs, that is not a good idea. Of everyone, I am the safest. Jalil will not want to kill me until he has killed everyone else."

Gibbs shook his head. "You don't know that. Besides, you're of better use here."

"For what?"

"We need to see if VEVAK knows where this guy is and we need to talk to Mossad."

That last bit of information hit her hard, but Ziva took it in stride, her previous day's allowance of vulnerability gone with nary a trace. "Oh, I see," was her only acknowledgement that Gibbs had even mentioned Mossad.

"I know they aren't high on your list of people you want to talk to at the moment, but this case involves them and they're more likely to talk to you than us."

"I would not be so certain of that," she replied. The last phone call she'd had with her father had been filled with vitriolic mudslinging from both sides and had ended with her slamming down the phone. Eli David had made no attempts to call back.

"Whether you agree or not, Vance has set a meeting between our three agencies in…" He consulted his watch. "…Twenty minutes. Go get yourself ready and be up in MTAC by then."

She grabbed some things from her bag and walked off in the direction of the women's restroom. Gibbs turned the other way and went up to MTAC. Vance was already there, gnawing on a toothpick. He was nervous; Gibbs could tell.

"How's your team holding up?"

"They're fine, Leon," Gibbs said.

"Even Ziva?"

"Maybe not at her best, but she'll be okay. I'm not benching her on this one."

"Wasn't suggesting you should," Vance replied with a bemused grin. "But do you think she'd ready to speak with her father? Assuming he'll even agree to speak to her."

"A killer is targeting his daughter and you think he'll just turn his back on her?"

"When you become an employee of Eli David, all other ties are broken. If you leave Mossad, you leave him as well."

"So you don't think he'll help us?"

"I didn't say that." He removed the toothpick and twirled it between his fingers. "As a spurned father and former employer he won't be happy to see David; as the head of an agency, though, he'll be interested in helping someone who may have killed a few of his own. It's the head of VEVAK that we need to worry about."

* * *

As Vance had suggested, Eli David was less than pleased at the sight of his daughter, but their biggest challenge was convincing the head of VEVAK to give them information on former employee Jalil Azizi.

"Former employee?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes, Agent Gibbs," VEVAK Director Moham replied grimly. "Azizi left the agency not long after the untimely death of his wife." He punctuated the comment with a sharp look to Ziva.

"He probably recognized that he was useless without his partner in crime," Eli commented bitterly.

"We have no reason to believe Jalil took part in his wife's hits."

"He knew she was wanted for murder and he did nothing."

"With all due respect," Vance said, stepping forward to stop the arguing men, "this is not a forum for pointing fingers or placing blame. Jalil Azizi is here to kill again and we need help tracking him down."

"And why should we help Mossad? Director David allowed his daughter to get away with murdering one of ours," Moham snapped.

For the first time since the meeting began, Ziva broke her silence. "How is it murder when you admit Nasreen was killing people without your authorization?"

"So you admit you murdered her."

"I admit nothing," she snarled back. "I am reminding you that VEVAK labeled her as rogue and agreed to take care of her when she was captured. Why should it matter if someone else took care of her for you?"

"Officer David-"

"It is _Agent_ David," she corrected, arms folded, "and let us not get off track here. This is not about Nasreen and what happened six years ago; this is about now, about the threat against my team, my _friends_! Jalil is here somewhere, waiting for the chance to kill them off one by one and I intend to do everything in my power to stop that from happening. Two of my friends are in the hospital already. If even one of my friends dies, I will hold you partially responsible. Now tell us what you know, damn it!"

* * *

"Can't I help? I mean, I'm the one who almost got shot!"

"Abby, we've been through this," Tim said patiently. "You're in the hospital and need to focus on getting better."

"Besides, Abbs, most of the work we're doing now is leg work so you'd be bored anyway."

She pouted and hugged Bert against her chest. He emitted his perfunctory sound of flatulence, earning a raised eyebrow from the nurse who was treating her wound.

Tim and Tony had arrived at the hospital to find Abby up and talking to anyone who would listen. Though Ducky wasn't awake, the doctors informed them that he had come to in the middle of the night, a good sign in their eyes.

Abby hadn't had much to add to their investigation. She remembered talking to Ziva and remembered hearing a gunshot (though she didn't recall feeling the bullet graze her), but the rest of the ordeal was a blur.

"It's not fair. You guys get to have all of the excitement."

Tim rolled his eyes. "It's not as exciting as you think, Abby."

"What about Ziva? She needs me!"

"Ziva is…well, she's Ziva," Tony said. "She'll get by."

"But this is different!"

"Abby, we know you have this innate need to be there for people when things are rough, but right now you need to get better and that's that."

"But you guys will find this monster, right?" she asked with worry in her eyes. Her hair was down, hanging limply around her face which had been wiped clean of make-up. She didn't look like their favorite happy-go-lucky Goth, but rather like a frightened little girl.

"We will find him," Tony promised. "You and Ducky have guards outside your rooms so you're both safe."

"Okay," she sighed in resignation, "but you had better keep me informed on everything. Got it?"

"Got it," they repeated in unison.

On their way out, Tony's phone rang. It was Gibbs.

"DiNozzo, VEVAK says Jalil fell of their grid about six months ago. The apartment he was staying in was abandoned, though he'd paid his rent through the month. A little digging found that he boarded a plane to the states about four months ago under the name Enrico Suvez, so add that to the list of possible aliases."

"Got it," Tony replied as he wrote that down. "Got a picture of him?"

"They provided us with the most recent picture they have. I've sent it to McGee."

"We'll check it out. Anything else?"

"Call me at noon to let me know whether or not you've found anything. And watch out for snipers," was Gibbs last comment before hanging up.


	9. Chapter 9

Yousef Davisadr sat behind the front desk rolling the pen between his fingers. The motel didn't often get customers during the day. Their usual customers checked in late at night or early in the morning and only rented for an hour or so. He generally spent his free time tidying up the lobby area—as much as one could tidy up such a dump, what with the stains in the carpet, the roaches crawling along the wall, and the ever-present mystery odor that wafted through the air—or reading the newspaper.

The bell above the door jingled as it opened and two men stepped in. Yousef dropped the pen and plastered a smile on his face. Always smile at the customer, no matter what. It was the rule and he was in no position to lose his job. "Hello, gentlemen," he greeted, "what can I do for you today?"

"We're with NCIS," Tony said as he pulled out a badge. "Special agents DiNozzo and McGee."

"NCIS?" Yousef asked. "Is that some sort of special government agency?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Tim provided. "We investigate crimes involving the Navy and Marines."

"I see. Well, I have not seen any servicemen here in quite some time."

Tim pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture which he showed to Yousef. "We're looking for this man. We believe he may be staying in this area. Do you know if he is staying in one of these rooms?"

Yousef took the phone and studied the picture. Then, his eyes lit up. "Yes," he said, "I have seen this man recently."

This was good news for both Tony and Tim. "Do you know which room he's in?" Tony asked.

"He was in 102 last I saw, but I believe he checked out last night." Seeing their dejected faces, he quickly added, "There are security cameras set up outside, though, and you're free to review the tapes. If he is driving a car you may be able to see the license plate."

"Where do you keep them?" Tim asked.

Yousef paused and looked out the window of the motel lobby. No one was going to be coming in at any point in the next hour or so; he had time to leave the desk for now.

"Come on into the back," he said, nodding his head toward a door behind the desk. "I'll get the tapes made for you."

They followed him toward the door. He unlocked it and opened it, motioning for them to enter before him. Once they were inside, he pulled the gun from the back of his pants. Swiftly, he whacked them each on the head with the butt of his gun and watched them fall forward.

Yousef pulled out his phone. "Jalil," he said in a hushed tone, "come to the lobby now."

* * *

Gibbs checked his watch and grumbled. It was past noon and Tony and Tim still hadn't called to give him a SitRep. He had been explicitly clear in his instructions.

He flipped open his phone and dialed Tony's number. It went to voicemail. Rather than leave a message, he snapped the phone closed and tossed it back down onto his desk.

"No answer?" Ziva asked with more than a little worry.

"DiNozzo isn't exactly known for following orders to a T," he said, though it was clear to Ziva that he didn't truly believe what he was saying. "They probably stopped for lunch somewhere."

Before she could respond, Ziva's phone began to ring. "McGee" popped up onto the screen. "McGee is calling my phone," she told Gibbs as she snatched it up. "McGee, where are you and Tony? Gibbs is not happy that you haven't checked as he told you to."

"Shalom, Officer David," greeted a cold, familiar voice. "Or is it Agent David now? I understand you have abandoned your family for those Americans."

She looked up at Gibbs and he saw something was wrong. "Jalil," she said breathlessly. Gibbs jumped up and signaled for her to try and run a trace.

"You are not surprised to hear from me."

"I have already seen what you have left for my benefit," Ziva said slowly. She knew she had to keep him on the line as long as possible. "I was wondering when you would get around to actually phoning me." As she spoke, her fingers clumsily flew across the keys as she tried to get a fix on the phone.

"You have no patience, Ziva David," he said with a chuckle. "Luckily, I do. For six years I have been waiting. It felt like a lifetime."

She bit back an expletive as she hit the wrong button. Her nerves were getting to her. "Let's not beat around the tree, Jalil. I can see you are calling from my friend's phone so I can only assume both he and Agent DiNozzo are with you. What is your asking price?"

"Who said anything about an asking price?" He was toying with her.

"You are calling me to let me know you have taken my friends hostage. Obviously you want something."

"Well, I must admit my first instinct was to kill them both and send you their body parts in the mail. But then my merciful side took over."

"I'm surprised. I was not aware that 'mercy' was even in your vocabulary."

He laughed. "You are a very funny woman, Ziva David. I hope you keep that sense of humor because you will need it."

"Tell me what you want, Jalil."

"I want you to choose."

"Choose? You mean whether I should start by breaking your fingers when I catch you or start by slicing off your genitals to feed to the dogs?"

"You will choose who lives and who dies."

"Very well. They live and you die."

"Unfortunately, I am not one of the choices. You will choose between your friends. One will live and one will die, but I am leaving the decision up to you. Think it over. I'll call you back."

He disconnected and Ziva let out a string of curse words she'd been holding in. "He has them. I do not know how, but he does." The trace had been unsuccessful; computers weren't her forte to begin with, but when trying to control a whirlwind of emotions it was impossible to even try.

Gibbs snatched up the phone and ordered for one of the computer techs to come up. "What exactly did he say to you?" he asked once he'd hung up the phone.

Ziva recounted the entire conversation as best she could remember. "He told me he would call back."

When a bespectacled man arrived in front of Gibbs' desk and introduced himself as the requested computer tech, Gibbs immediately put him to work on getting a fix on where the phone was. "What are the chances of finding where he was when he made the call?"

"Well, if the phone is still on I can figure out where it is. If it isn't, I can check the last call made from Agent McGee's phone and see which cell towers it was closest to. It won't be an exact location, but it will narrow your search down considerably."

Both cell phones had been turned off, but the tech went about tracing the call Jalil had made to Ziva. "Okay, it looks like phone was within this cell tower radius when he called," he said, pointing to a blinking dot in the Fairfax area.

"Ziva, put out a BOLO on the Sedan Tony and McGee took and call Vance to let him know what's happening. Then you and I are heading out."

* * *

Tony was fading in and out of consciousness. He was aware of the cords binding his wrists and ankles together and aware of another body beside his. The two of them were stuffed in a dark, cramped space.

As it pushed through the haze, his mind replayed the events of the day. Sleeping on the couch in one of the conference rooms…heading out to the hospital to visit Abby and Ducky…then onto the motels with McGee.

"McGee," he muttered. He tried to elbow the figure beside him.

"Mmm," was the murmured reply. "My head hurts."

"Yeah, mine too. I guess that's what happens when you get pistol whipped. Your hands tied?"

There was a short pause and Tim tried to move. "Yeah," he responded breathlessly. "My ankles too."

"Okay, so that's something we'll have to take care of before we bust out of here. Any idea where we are?"

Tim extended his feet as far as he could. They hit the surface in front of them. "I think we're in a closet."

"Guess we figured out where Jalil was."

"Maybe, but that guy behind the counter wasn't Jalil."

"He might be working for him, though."

There was a grunt as Tim squirmed to change positions. "Probie, what are you doing?"

He shushed Tony. "I think I hear someone talking." He pressed his ear against the door and strained to hear.

"Well?" Tony asked after a bout of silence. "Do you hear anything?"

"I think so…but they're not speaking English."

* * *

"You said you were giving her a choice," Yousef said in Persian. "You said one would live and the other would be killed."

"I did," Jalil responded calmly.

"But I thought we were going to kill them both."

"We will kill one, Yousef, and we will torture the other one. If he happens to die in the process, that is no fault of ours, now is it?"

Yousef smiled. "And then we go for the next one, yes? This Agent Gibbs?"

"That is the plan. I think, however, that our Ziva David is beginning to crumble. I want her here. I will invite her to meet us and give her a front row seat for all of this."

"Do you think that wise, Jalil? She may not come alone."

"She will," he replied firmly. "She will want the chance to kill me herself without any interference from anyone else."

"And the others, Jalil? What of the old man and the dark-haired woman?"

"I swear to you they will be dead. Your sister will be avenged."


	10. Chapter 10

"This is pointless," Ziva growled as Gibbs zipped down the interstate, weaving between the other cars that refused to go fast enough to appease him. "Even if he is keeping them within this area, it will take us too long to search it all."

"It's all we've got at the moment, Ziva." He swerved to the left lane and braked hard to avoid rear-ending a truck in front of him. "Did he say when he would call you back?"

"No. He gave me no hints, no clues, nothing!" she ranted, her voice getting louder with every word.

"Check and see if there have been any hits on the BOLO," Gibbs replied calmly. He knew he had to give her something—anything—to take her mind off what might be happening to Tony and Tim.

Ziva grumbled, but did as ordered. Luckily for her, the effort proved to be fruitful. "A local LEO found their car abandoned in the parking lot of a Fairfax strip mall." As soon as she said it she dialed the number of the LEO who had called it in.

"How far?" Gibbs asked the moment she hung up.

"Only about five miles from the next exit. He said he'd wait until we got there."

Gibbs pressed hard on the gas pedal and sped toward the exit, ignoring the blaring horns from other drivers. "Any blood?"

"Not that he saw. My guess is that Jalil drove the car out there, made the call, and left it there for us to find."

"He had to get back to where he's keeping them. Taking a bus or a cab would be too risky. He knows we might be able to track down the bus driver or cabbie and ask where they dropped him off."

"So either he walked the distance or he had someone pick him up," Ziva concluded. "It is not unlikely that he has an accomplice."

"If he does, do you have any idea who it might be?"

She brought a hand to her head and rubbed her temples. "No…it's been six years. All I remember is her husband glaring at me, spitting at me."

They pulled into the parking lot and immediately saw a police officer standing beside a dark Sedan. Gibbs parked the car next to it and they got out.

"You the people from NCIS?" asked the officer.

"That'd be us. Special Agent Gibbs and David," Gibbs said, flashing his badge.

The policeman followed suit. "I'm Officer DeLaney. So this is the car in the BOLO?"

"It is," Gibbs confirmed, looking over the car. "You found it right here?"

"Yes, sir. I was actually here because someone reported their car was stolen, but it turns out the lady had just forgotten where she parked it. I was about to leave when I saw the car."

Gibbs turned toward the row of stores which sat opposite the parking lot. A Wal-Mart, Payless, Wonder Cuts, Subway, and Fed-Ex were all close enough to the car that someone inside may have seen something or a security camera may have gotten Jalil on tape.

"Ziva, you take these three," he said, gesturing to the Wal-Mart, Payless, and Wonder Cuts. "Ask if anyone saw who left this car and see if they have any security cameras set up out here. I'll take the other two and talk to parking lot security."

"What about me?" Officer DeLaney asked.

"Get a forensics team out here and have them go over the car top to bottom." Gibbs didn't like leaving strangers in charge of his evidence, but time was running out and he was shorthanded.

DeLaney nodded and whipped out his cell phone to call it in.

When Gibbs turned around, Ziva was still standing there, staring intently at the car. Her mouth was pursed into a tight frown. "Ziva," he said. He repeated it until she looked up. "Go."

* * *

Tony and Tim were pulled unceremoniously from the closet they'd been stuffed in. Jalil dragged Tony while Yousef had Tim. They were placed back-to-back in folding chairs and bound with ropes around their torsos.

Tony looked up at Jalil and shot him a wide smile. "I don't think we've been introduced yet. Jalil, right?"

"Very good, Agent DiNozzo. I see NCIS does its homework well."

"Oh, sure. We know all about you. Seems your wife thought she could go against Ziva in a hand-to-hand combat and win. To be fair, I thought the same thing once; then she introduced me to her paper clip maneuver."

"Tony," Tim warned.

"Yeah, Ziva's a little firecracker, just like your wife is. Or _was_, I should say."

Jalil smacked Tony across the face with the back of his hand. Tony's head snapped back, but he didn't make a sound.

"I know all about you as well, Agent DiNozzo. You are the comedian of the team, yes? The one who likes to crack jokes? The funny one?"

"Funny how?" he droned on doing his best Joe Pesci. "Funny like a clown? Do I amuse you?"

But his antics were in vain. Jalil had grown bored with him already and turned his attention to Tim. "And you, Agent McGee. MIT and Johns Hopkins, proficient in computers. A constant student, eager to learn. I'm sure you'll be learning a lot here."

"Oh?" Tim replied in a level tone. "Like what?"

"Like how much pain a human body can endure before death."

* * *

"Look," Ziva hissed to the Wal-Mart manager she'd been arguing with for the last ten minutes, "I am at the end of my thread here. My friends are in trouble and may be dead soon. We do not have time to get a court order for you to hand over your security tapes. Now give me the damn tapes or I swear on my life I will strangle you with your coffee-stained tie and chop you up into little pieces!"

The manager's demeanor didn't falter at the threat. He simply picked up the phone and called security.

With a frustrated scream, Ziva retreated from his office and stalked back into the store. The managers at Payless and Wonder Cuts had not been nearly as difficult about handing over security footage. It had all been expressed to NCIS where one or more of the lab techs would search through it, looking for something to go off of.

Her phone rang. Still in a state of frustration, she grabbed it and flipped it open. "What?" she greeted brusquely.

"Am I catching you at a bad time, Ziva?"

She froze in her spot, clutching the phone against her ear.

"You are alone?"

"Define alone."

"Your Agent Gibbs is not with you, is he?"

She paused. "He is not with me at the moment, but he is in the same general area." There was little point in lying about it; he would have known.

"Good. I am going to give you an address. I want you to be there in fifteen minutes."

"What if I cannot get there that quickly?"

"You will be there if you want either of your friends to live." He gave her an address and had her repeat it back to him. "When you get there, wait. Someone will be there to pick you up. Be sure you come alone. If anyone else is with you or it looks as though you are being followed, your friends will be killed."

"Let me talk to them," she said.

"Later."

"How do I even know that they are still alive?"

There was a long pause on the other end. And then…

"Ziva?" He sounded weary, but it was Tim's voice.

"McGee. Are you alright?"

"I've been better, but I've also been worse, I guess."

"And Tony?"

"He's being Tony."

"Ah. He will not shut up."

"Exactly. They've already backhanded him twice."

The phone was pulled away, Tim's voice replaced by Jalil's. "There, you see? They are both fine. Now I would get moving if I were you. You're down to twelve minutes." He disconnected.

Ziva didn't waste a moment. She sprinted outside while simultaneously stuffing her phone into her pocket. The Sedan was still there with Gibbs nowhere in sight. This was good because it meant he couldn't try to follow her, but it was bad because Gibbs had the keys. While picking locks was her forte, hot wiring was not. She would have to find another way.

A man was walking toward his car, holding a plastic bag from the comic book store at the end of the strip mall. He seemed to be alone. With few options, Ziva decided it would have to do.

She ran up behind him and pulled out her gun. "Give me your keys," she said in the low tone.

The man twisted away and stared at her, his mouth agape. He dropped the bag and held his hands up nervously. "Please don't shoot me."

"I am not going to shoot you. I am a federal agent and I need your car," she explained, flashing her badge as she spoke. It was superfluous on her part, though; as long as she had a gun in her hand she could get him to do whatever she needed. "Now please hand over your keys."

"Yeah, sure," he said. With one hand still in the air, he fished the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her.

Ziva caught them and holstered her gun. "Thank you," she told him before slipping into the front seat. She didn't even stop to put on her seatbelt before bringing the engine to life. As she sped out of the parking lot, she saw Gibbs in the rearview mirror, running after her in a vain attempt to catch up.


	11. Chapter 11

Ziva sped the entire way, not wanting to risk being even a minute late. Finally, she pulled up beside an old gas station and put the car into park. By her watch she still had three minutes to spare.

The owner of the gas station emerged from inside his shop and began to approach as she got out of the car, but she waved him off. "I am only waiting for someone," she told him. "He is following me and got lost." If bullets were to be shot here she didn't want any innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire.

No sooner had he stepped inside than another car pulled in and stopped right beside Ziva. The driver put it into park and stepped out. It was not Jalil.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He didn't answer. Instead, he tossed her a pair of handcuffs. "Put these on. Now."

She obeyed, handcuffing her arms behind her back. The man stepped forward and began patting her down. He removed her gun, her back-up gun, and her knife. Satisfied that she had no more weapons, he opened the passenger side door and motioned for her to get in.

"Why are you working for Jalil?" she asked once they were back on the road.

He smacked her hard across the face. "You ask too many questions."

"You are threatening the lives of my friends. Forgive me for being curious."

"I am working for Jalil because we both desire the same thing."

"And what would that be?"

He looked at her with absolute loathing. "Vengeance."

* * *

"So what did she say?" Gibbs asked as he talked with Henry McGuire, the victim of Ziva's carjacking. Despite being assured that she was, in fact, an NCIS agent, the man was understandably still a bit shaky.

"Uh, just that she was a federal agent. I gave her the keys and she drove off."

Gibbs frowned. Jalil had said he would call back. Obviously he had and whatever he said had kicked Ziva into action. "Thanks," he said before walking away.

"So, uh, am I going to get compensated or something?" Henry asked tentatively. Gibbs let Officer DeLaney handle that one.

He had exited the Fed-Ex and saw Ziva talking with the man. It wasn't until he saw Henry toss her keys that he became curious, though. She'd been in the car and peeling out before he could even get close. He'd sprinted to the Sedan, but by the time he got into the car, she was long gone and he had no chance of catching up to her.

"So Ziva ran off?" Vance asked when Gibbs filled him in.

"Yeah, well, you know her. Doesn't always like to follow orders."

"Kind of reminds me of you," Vance joked.

"I had DeLaney put out a BOLO on the car she stole. Hopefully that'll get us somewhere."

"Well, maybe some good news will help. Dr. Mallard is up and seems to be doing well. He doesn't remember getting shot, though."

"Good to hear. And Abby?"

"Miss Scuito is almost back to being her old self. I haven't told either of them about DiNozzo and McGee, though. Figured they didn't need to worry about it at the moment."

Gibbs was thankful for that. The last thing he needed at the moment was an endless string of messages from Abby asking what was going on. "Yeah, Leon, you're right about that."

"So how is the rest of the investigation going? Find anything else from the stores?"

"No one I talked with remembered seeing Jalil or the car. The security tapes should get there soon. That'll be our best bet."

"I'll make sure they're a top priority. Just keep me informed."

"I will, Leon." He flipped the phone closed and got into the Sedan. He had seen the basic direction in which Ziva had gone and he had the make, model, and number of the car. Officer DeLaney had his number and had been given explicit instructions to call him the minutes he got a hit on the BOLO. Gibbs pulled out of the parking lot. All he could do was pray.

* * *

They pulled into a motel parking lot. Ziva had remained silent for the remainder of the ride. He got out, walked around to the other side, opened her door, and yanked her out. She considered trying to scream, but a gun barrel against her side nixed that plan before it had time to form.

"Walk," he ordered. He pushed her forward, keeping a tight grip on her arm, and shoved her through a door that opened.

"Ah, the elusive Ziva David. How nice to finally see you again after all these years."

She glowered at Jalil who stood before her and wished she had a weapon on her. Nothing would give her more pleasure at the moment than putting three bullets right through his heart. But with all her weapons confiscated, she could only spit at him. It hit his shoe and only made her feel slightly better.

"Feisty," he commented jovially. "I expected nothing less."

"Where are they?"

Jalil nodded to a door that connected to the next bedroom over. "They are both relatively unharmed."

"You have me now. Let them go."

"It is time for you to choose."

"I will not choose."

"If you do not choose, I will kill them both. I can assure you it will be very slow and very painful."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" she snapped. "You will kill them both no matter what I choose. It is inevitable. Now I am offering myself up in exchange for them. I am the one you hate, not them."

"No," he disagreed, "I do not discriminate when I give my hatred. They are your friends, therefore I hate them." He turned to his partner. "Remove her handcuffs, Yousef."

Yousef looked dubious, but he obeyed. He had only removed one shackle before she had elbowed him in the gut. She turned her attention to Jalil and threw a fist at him. But anger and fatigue had affected her and the punch didn't even land. Jalil took a hold of her wrist, twisted her arm behind her back, and pulled into a hold so that her back was against his chest. His arm snaked around her neck, almost choking her.

"Do you know how long I have been waiting for this?" he asked. His mouth was right beside her ear, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. "From the moment you killed my wife, I have thought of little else other than watching you suffer."

"Six years," she replied, "that is a long time to wait."

His arm tightened around her neck. "I like to plan very thoroughly."

Jalil released his hold around her neck, but kept her arm in place behind her back. "Your friends would have been better off if you had just killed yourself."

"Suicide is cowardly."

"Yes, it is, which is why I would think you would choose it as your way out. Despite your bravado, at your core you're truly just a coward who would kill a pregnant woman."

"She made her own choices," Ziva replied. "I was following orders."

"Like you did with Ari?"

She stiffened in his grip. Jalil smiled, elated by the effect his words had on her.

"Your new boss, this Agent Gibbs. He killed your brother, yes?"

"He did." Her voice didn't waver.

"And you have no problem working for him?"

"Ari was a monster. He needed to be stopped."

"As I understand, you were the one to pull the trigger." Ziva was silent. "You put a bullet in your own brother's head. I suppose family means nothing to you, then. You left your father for these Americans. For that alone you should have killed yourself in shame."

"NCIS is my family now and I will protect them with my life."

"That we will see." He whipped her body around and pushed her toward the connecting door. Yousef opened it for them and Jalil dragged her through.

Tony and Tim were seated in the center of the room, still bound to their chairs. They looked up as the trio entered and Ziva noticed that their mouths were taped shut.

"Are you both okay?" she asked as Jalil pushed her past them. They both nodded, though she noticed a couple of bruises on their faces.

Jalil sat her down on the bed and restrained her arms behind her back once again. "Time is almost up, Ziva David. You have five minutes to decide which one will die and which one will live."


	12. Chapter 12

Gibbs wasn't one to send thanks up to God very often, but today he couldn't help but thank the big guy upstairs. After heading off in the same direction Ziva had, Gibbs happened upon the stolen car parked in a gas station parking lot. It was empty, but unlocked, and the keys were still in the ignition.

"You see the driver of this car?" he asked the owner when he came out to greet him.

The man lifted the brim of his ball cap an wiped his perspiring forehead. "I did. Pretty girl. I came out to help her, but she said she was okay, that she was just waiting for someone."

"You see the person she was waiting for?"

He shrugged. "Got busy with other things. Thought she was still here until you asked about her."

Gibbs cursed. "Got any security cameras?"

"Had one, but some kids stole it a couple weeks ago."

He cursed again. "Well, thanks anyway," he said before his phone started ringing. He snatched it from his pocket. "Gibbs."

"It's Vance. Was doing a little needling over here to see if I couldn't get more information out of Director Moham. Turns out Nasreen had a younger brother. Their mother ran off when they were teens and took the brother with her to the states. They kept in touch best they could, but hadn't seen each other for years."

"What's the brother's name?"

"Yousef Davisdar. The mother died about three years ago, but he got a job in a Virginia motel right about where you are now."

For the second time that day Gibbs sent up a silent thanks to the heavens. "Got an address?"

* * *

"So which one will it be?" Jalil asked.

Ziva was still sitting on the bed, looking at Tony and Tim. It was one of the few times in her life she wasn't sure what to do. To their credit, Tony and Tim were trying not to look at her, lest she should see that they were both afraid. Instead, each was trying to subtly signal that she choose them to die and let the other live.

"I cannot make this choice, Jalil. You should sooner kill me than even ask me to."

Yousef growled and pulled out his own gun, pointing it at her head. "We are wasting time! Let us kill both of them and the Jewish whore!"

But Jalil calmly lifted a hand to Yousef's arm and pulled it down. "Patience. Ziva still has two minutes in which to make her choice."

"I could have all the time in the world and I would not choose one to die," she spat out, glowering at both men. "So just kill me."

"If you do not chose they will both die, and I can assure you it will not be a quick or merciful a death."

"What of the others?" she asked softly. "Ducky and Abby…and Gibbs? What will you do to them after all this is done? Will you kill them anyway, even though I will surely be dead?"

"You have one minute," he replied, ignoring her questions. Though he wouldn't show it as Yousef was, he too was growing impatient. Drawing it out this way wasn't nearly as thrilling as he'd hoped it would be. Now all he wanted was to see her dead, her eyes open as they stared upward into nothingness. He wouldn't be happy until then.

"I refuse!" she bellowed. "Why should I bother making the choice? No matter who I choose, you'll kill us all. You wouldn't dare leave behind any witness. I may as well sit in silence from now until you decide to kill me, which I'm sure will be very soon."

No longer willing to hold it in, Jalil snapped up and kicked her. His foot connected with her side, cracking a rib and knocking her to the floor. He shoved his hand into her hair and yanked her to her feet. "Bitch!" he snarled. "Cold-hearted shrew! That's what you are!"

Ziva said nothing, holding firm to her vow of silence. This only infuriated him more. He'd hoped for begging of some sort, if not on her behalf, on that of her friends.

"Yousef," he snapped. He nodded to Tim. "Break something if you can."

All too eager to get in on the action, Yousef brought is fist across Tim's face, knocking his head back. Tim let out a muffled grunt of pain.

"Your time is up," Jalil said as he pulled Ziva in front of him. He clutched her shoulders tightly, digging his fingers into her flesh. "You're going to spend the rest of your miserable life watching us break your friends. If I feel charitable, I may end your life quickly."

There was another grunt of pain, this time from Tony, as Yousef kicked him in the shin.

The beatings continued, usually with Yousef as the muscle, though Jalil couldn't resist joining in once in a while. Ziva sat stoically silent, not because the sight of seeing them getting hurt didn't affect her, but because she already knew there was nothing she could do. To scream and shout and growl would be to give them what they wanted; it would only spurn them on further. They all—Tony, Tim, and herself—were as good as dead.

When the two men finally started to tire, they stepped away and stopped momentarily. Tony and Tim were decorated with bruises and cuts, but neither looked particularly gruesome. Certainly they'd had worse in Somalia.

Jalil's upper lip curled into a sneer as he stared into Ziva's stony expression. "You _are_ heartless," he declared as he backhanded her. "You won't even swallow your Mossad pride long enough to beg for your friend's lives."

"If I thought begging would help even a little, I would already be on my knees," she replied evenly. "I have accepted that I can do nothing to save them."

He slapped her again, muttering an expletive in his native tongue. Then, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket along with a lighter. "Perhaps it is time we should move on to the next level." He placed the cigarette in his mouth and brought the flame to the tip. Once it was smoldering, he took a quick inhale, but didn't take much time to savor it. Instead, he pressed the hot tip into the top of Tony's hand.

"I can make this last as long as I want it to, Agent David."

"And you will. You will kill them through long and painful torture. Yes, I know, Jalil. And I have been brought here to watch, a captive audience to this macabre performance. Just do not expect any applause from me when it's finished."

"I'll tear out their eyes. Pluck them from their heads like a crow plucking worms from their holes in the earth."

"That will not bring her back," Ziva said. "It will not bring _them _back. I know I am in no position to discuss holding grudges and harboring ill will, but as someone who has experienced these losses, believe me, I know what I am talking about. This will achieve nothing and you will still feel that hollow, empty feeling in the pit of your stomach until the day you die."

But her words fell upon deaf ears. Jalil was far too enraged to succumb to words of common sense, particularly from his enemy. "Pathetic!" he growled. He spit at her in anger, adding, "Coward!"

"Perhaps," she admitted. "But you are no better."

Jalil snatched his gun up and aimed it at her head. "I am tired of playing games, Ziva David. You will beg me for your life, for your friends' lives. You will offer me everything—money, power, yourself—and ask that I show mercy."

"No, Jalil, I will not," she replied wearily.

Is finger twitched against the trigger. "Beg."

She sat there, looking in the barrel of the gun with weary, yet calm, eyes and waiting patiently.

That's when the shot sounded.


	13. Chapter 13

Gibbs looked down at the dead body that lay across the autopsy table. He wasn't quite sure what he felt.

"Tragic, isn't it," Vance commented. Gibbs hadn't even heard him enter.

"Not exactly the word I'd use for it."

"I didn't mean Jalil's death so much as the entire situation. It's been a rough couple of days for everyone, including you."

Everything had happened so quickly, it all seemed more like a horrible dream to everyone involved.

Gibbs had pulled up at the motel, ready to break down the office door if need be to find Jalil and his cohort. Then he'd had the idea to proceed in a more quiet fashion, something difficult for him, especially in the current situation. He carefully tread around the building, peeking into windows as best he could. That's when he heard the voices:

"I'll tear out their eyes. Pluck them from their heads like a crow plucking worms from their holes."

"That will not bring her back. It will not bring _them _back. I know I am in no place to discuss holding grudges and harboring ill will, but as someone who has experienced these losses…"

The voices were faint, but he recognized Ziva's. He could only assume the male voice was Jalil's.

Gibbs peeked into the window which was opened just a little bit, wide enough to allow their voices through. The blinds covered up most of it, hiding the room, but he found a small opening near the edge through which he could see. Tony and Tim were bound to chairs and Ziva was sitting on the bed, apparently handcuffed. One man stood before her while another man stood by the connecting door, arms crossed as he watched. Gibbs saw the man grab a gun and aim it at Ziva.

"I am tired of playing games, Ziva David," he snarled. "You will beg me for your life, for your friends' lives. You will offer me everything—money, power, yourself—and ask that I show mercy."

Time was running out, Gibbs knew that much. He could've run around to the room's front door, kicked it in, and started shooting, but he didn't want to waste that much time. The shot from out here wouldn't be perfect, but he had enough of an angle on Jalil that he could at least do some damage.

So he'd stepped back and taken the best shot he could.

Jalil, as predicted, didn't die immediately; the bullet tore through his ribs and hit him in the stomach. It did, however, cause him to drop the gun and crumble to the ground.

The window had shattered from the bullet's impact, giving Gibbs enough room and lean through and get a good fix on Yousef, who didn't quite have the same gumption as his fearless leader. Seeing Gibbs, he'd immediately raised his hands in surrender.

Tony, Tim, and Ziva were all taken to the hospital to have their wounds tended to. Each had sustained at least a couple of broken bones (all had a broken rib or two) and countless bruises from being roughed-up. Though she had arguably been injured the least of the three, Ziva looked by far the worst.

"An entire team in the hospital," Vance commented. "Well, except for you. If you'd like, I could assign you a substitute team for now."

"I'd rather work alone."

"I thought as much. How is David holding up?"

"Fine, considering the circumstances."

"She looked like hell when I last saw her."

"She's been through hell, Leon. We all have." Gibbs covered the lifeless form of Jalil Azizi. "When will the body be transported back to Iran?"

"As soon as they send someone to escort it back. I don't think an autopsy is necessary on our end."

"No. I know exactly how he died and I'll gladly tell them in great detail. If you'll excuse me, Leon, I've got a report to write."

"I'm not interested in reading any reports right now. Go visit your team."

* * *

Of the five of them, Abby was the most chipper when Gibbs came to visit. She was already up and trying to move about, despite the warnings from the doctor.

Ducky was still tinkering in and out of consciousness, but the medical personal said that was normal. Despite being half asleep, he still managed to drone on and on about events of the past that only obliquely related to his current situation.

Tony and Tim occupied the same room, Tony with two broken ribs, a hairline fracture on his shin, and a cigarette burn on his hand, and Tim with three broken ribs, a broken nose, and fresh black eye. On top of these injuries, both men also had multiple bruises decorating their bodies. When Gibbs came by they seemed to be arguing over who was hurt the worst, an argument that soon ended when Gibbs threatened to add head smacks to both of their list of injuries.

Out of everyone on the team, Gibbs put off seeing Ziva until last. Not because he was angry or upset with her, but because he knew his visit with her would be the longest.

She was sitting up in the hospital bed with bandages covering her injuries. The television was on some daytime talk show, but she wasn't watching it. She didn't even look up when he entered.

He took a seat in the chair beside her bed, waiting for her to say something.

"Do you know what I have learned these past three days?"

"What's that?"

"Daytime American television is awful."

That earned a small smile from Gibbs.

"It's all melodramatic stories about people deceiving each other and talk shows people go on to share their personal drama with others. Why should we care if your husband cheated on you with another man?"

"I don't think you're their target audience."

She nodded, but didn't say anything more.

"How are you?"

A shrug.

"That's not an answer."

"I don't have an answer to give."

"Jalil is dead and Yousef has been arrested. That should at least make you happy."

"It would, had four people not been hurt in the process."

"Five."

She turned to look at him for the first time since he'd entered. "What?"

"Five people were hurt. Ducky, Abby, DiNozzo, McGee, and you."

Ziva turned away. "I do not count myself."

"Why?"

"Because I was the only one who deserved it."

"Ziva, don't," he said firmly.

"I do not mean in that way, Gibbs. I know I did the right thing killing Nasreen and I do not regret it. But I can also understand why Jalil would be sent into such a rage and want vengeance against me because I'm the one who did it. The others, though, had nothing to do with it. He only went after them because they were connected to me. They were innocent."

"And so are you."

"Not innocent exactly; the killing was justified, but it was killing nonetheless."

Gibbs sat back in his chair. "We're a lot alike, Ziva."

She nodded. "Yes, I have noticed. When things go badly for the others, they don't push it down and lock it away. Tony cracks jokes to hide what he's feeling, McGee and Abby have no problem spewing their guts, and Ducky relates it to an anecdote to avoid facing the problem at hand. You and I just ignore it all together, though. Oh, sure, it festers inside our minds, clawing at our insides to be released, but we hide it behind a blank expression. The only emotion we let out is anger, anger directed at anyone in range."

"True. But sometimes it's okay to let the wall down. I'm not the best example, I know, but even I have my moments."

"If you're waiting for me to cry on your shoulder, you'll sooner see cows fly."

"I didn't say anything about crying, Ziva, but you don't have to keep the stiff upper lip thing going. You can talk about things with me, with us. No one expects you to be an invulnerable fortress."

"It's the Mossad training. Emotions are weaknesses. They get in the way of things. It's much easier to do unpleasant things if you detach yourself."

"Yeah, the Marines was the same way. But you always knew that the guys around you would have your back and you'd have theirs. That involves a lot of trust. Do you trust me, Ziva?"

"You know I do."

"Good. Then you can drop the Mossad hard-ass act and talk to me."

"Gibbs…"

"Ziva, I'm not your father. I may be your boss and I may push you in some of the same ways he did, but the difference between me and him is that when push comes to shove I'm not going to throw you to the wolves just to avoid any trouble."

"I do not like being weak."

"Everyone has moments of weakness and it takes strength to admit that." It was a fact he didn't often like admitting, but one that was necessary at the moment.

She was quiet, head resting back against her pillow as she stared up at the television. And then, "I cannot face them."

"Face who?"

"Them. The team. I cannot look them in the eye and hope they'll forgive me for what happened. Because even if they do, they'll always remember it and always associate me with that memory."

"Ziva, it wasn't your fault."

"People think so."

"What people?"

"People at NCIS."

"If they're saying that then they're idiots."

"Things are strained between Mossad and NCIS. Director Vance doesn't tell me, but I know it. Perhaps it would be better for all involved if I went back to Mossad."

"After everything you've done to become an American citizen? After Vance and I fought to keep you here, pulled strings to keep you as a probationary agent even though your citizenship was still pending? Now you're just going to walk away from it?"

"I do not wish to see people get hurt because of me. Jalil may be dead, but he was not my only enemy. If others were to come…"

"You think you're the only one with enemies? I could fill a phone book with names of people who want me dead. Some of them were married to me at one point. We've all got enemies, people who could pop up at any moment and interrupt our lives. It doesn't mean we should just stop living. If you go home just because some bastard came in and made a little noise, you'll be giving him exactly what he wanted. He's not alive to enjoy it, but you'll still be falling right into his trap."

"I'd rather swallow my pride and let him win that much if it means keeping the rest of you safe."

"And how do you know this will keep us safe? How do you know it won't happen anyway, whether you're here or not?"

Ziva didn't answer that; she couldn't answer it.

"I know it's been rough for you, Ziva, and I know it's even harder for you because you think you have to stay strong, but I'm warning you to think long and hard before making any stupid decisions. We need you on the team."

She smiled softly. "I do not remember getting such a warm welcome when I first joined your team."

"Things were different then. They've changed. No one here wants you to leave."

"Perhaps we should wait and ask them."

Gibbs sighed, tired of arguing. "They're going to say the same thing, but fine, if you want to poll them, that's your business. I don't know why you can't accept that people want you to stay, but I know I can't get through to you. You're stubborn."

"Just like you." He couldn't deny that was true.

"I'll come by tomorrow and see if you're any more sensible than you are right now."

Ziva watched him go, still stuck firmly in place, both physically and mentally. They would not miss her. How could they miss someone who had brought such a horror into their lives? Not just with Jalil either; she had been the one to help Ari in the beginning. If she had not been so blinded by her own love for him—another emotion getting in the way of common sense!—their teammate may have not been killed. Another innocent life added to her conscience.

No, she decided, they would not miss her. They would not ask her to stay behind. Not this time.

"Miss David?" came a tentative voice, accompanied by a knock at the door. It was the nurse. Ziva realized it was past noon.

"I am not hungry," she said.

"I'm not delivering your lunch." The nurse entered with another behind her, each carrying two large bouquets of flowers. Ziva watched in confusion as they set them down on the tables.

"Whose are those?"

"They're yours," the first nurse said with a bemused grin. "Who did you think they were for?"

Ziva had a better question. "Who sent them?"

They handed her the cards from the flowers before leaving her to read them. On each was written a message, some short, some long, telling her how glad they were she was safe. Each card was signed.

Ducky.

Abby.

Tony.

Tim.

No signs of anger or resentment anywhere.

For the first time in years—at least it felt like years—Ziva's stoic barrier crumbled like the walls of Jericho, coupled with a few rebellious tears which streamed down her face. But they were the good kind of tears, the kind that reminded you that you were still alive, that you had been strong enough to make it through, and that life was still work living, no matter how dark it got.

Gone was the hardened soldier her father had bred her to be; in its place was just her.

* * *

**AN:** And thus it ends! Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. I am always appreciative of you all. I hope you enjoyed the story!


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